


The Right Partner

by winterfool



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Mild Sexual Content, Romance, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-04-13 03:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 22,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4505613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterfool/pseuds/winterfool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various Steve/Peggy fics based on Tumblr prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Good Book

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Librarian/Avid Reader AU

She was there at the same time every week. Come rain or shine, every Thursday at 2pm she would come through the library doors and whatever the weather she seemed to bring sunlight with her. Steve could have set his watch by her visits. In a metaphorical sense he did; he went out of his way to make sure he was always working that shift, even if it meant begging or bribing the other librarians to swap with him. 

Sure enough, when he heard the creak of the doors opening and glanced at his watch it was 2pm exactly. On time, as she always was. He took a breath, despite knowing he’d lose it as soon as he turned around, straightened his shirt and looked over at her.

Her dark hair was windswept, a few stray strands teased out of place and clinging to the bright red lipstick that was so often in his thoughts. Matching spots of red had been whipped into her cheeks by the breeze, and her dark eyes were bright. 

“Hello, Steve.” She smiled, and Steve was reminded why Thursday was his favourite day of the week.

“Peggy,” he replied, enjoying the intimacy of her nickname on his tongue. Until two weeks ago, when he had finally worked up the courage to speak to her, he had only known her as _Carter, Margaret_ , from her library card. 

He had finally managed to say more than “Good day”, and “Here you go”, when she checked out a John le Carré novel, right after returning _The Thirty Nine Steps_. Seeing the common theme, the words tumbled out. “You like spy novels?”

He hadn’t meant to ask it out loud, but just to file it away as another piece of information about her; like the way she favoured clothes that were colourful but not too bright, simply cut but elegant, or how she would run her fingers over the book spines as she was trying to decide. Once it was out, though, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Peggy had tilted her head to one side, mouth curling just slightly, like she was enjoying a private secret. “Sometimes. You have any recommendations?”

“I, uh …” Realising he now had to come up with a response had thrown him, but he had managed to gathered his ragged thoughts. “I don’t know a lot of spy novels, but I remember enjoying _The Quiet American_.”

“I’ll have to give it a go, ahhh …” Her eyes had flicked down to his name tag, which read only _S. Rogers_. “Mr. Rogers.”

“Steve,” he had said, holding out her book.

Their fingers had only just brushed as she took it, but it was like electricity shooting up his arm. “Peggy.”

Now, coming over to the counter, Peggy reached into her bag and pulled out _The Quiet American_. She had checked it out the previous week as promised, and Steve was surprised now how nervous he was to see if she had enjoyed it. 

“It was very good,” she said, and relief almost made his shoulders sag. “Any other books you want to recommend?”

Steve thought rapidly, not an easy task when she was gazing up at him like that. “Do they have to be spy novels?”

She looked amused and shook her head. “Not at all.”

“Well … my favourite book growing up was _Dubliners_. James Joyce.” 

“I’ll go and look for a copy.” Peggy was halfway towards the shelves when she stopped and called back over her shoulder, “Maybe you can take me out to dinner next week so I can tell you what I thought.”

Steve stared at her for several seconds before he realised she was waiting for an answer, though luckily for him it only made her smile wider. “I, uh, yeah. Yeah, I could do that.” 

As far as he was concerned, the week couldn’t go quickly enough.


	2. Interruptions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fictional Kisses - accidentally being forced inches apart from each other, staring at each other’s lips, and just before they kiss someone pulls them back apart

It was a trap and for some reason Steve was willingly walking right into it, with no idea how they were going to turn the tables.

No, not for some reason. For _one_ reason.

He glanced down at Peggy, creeping down the hall beside him. Dressed in a form-fitting, black S.H.I.E.L.D uniform, her dark hair drawn back into a knot at the base of her next, she blended almost seamlessly into the shadows they were sneaking through. Even so, Steve fancied he could see her face, her brown drawn together in a faint frown, creating a small crease in her forehead, the corners of her mouth pulled slightly downwards. Perhaps the serum that had given him strength and height and speed had also improved his eyesight so he only needed the faintest light to see by. Or perhaps he just knew her so well that he didn’t need to see her to know what expression she wore.

Peggy Carter was probably the only person in the world who could have talked him into this, into infiltrating the base of one of the few HYDRA agents still at large even knowing it was a trap. 

In fairness, he agreed with her to an extent. According to their sources, this man had information that could help them finally wipe out what remained of HYDRA, and this was the best chance they had to capture him. And there was no one Steve would trust more than their small team to find a way to get out of this unscathed.

But that didn’t mean Steve had to like walking into a trap.

It made him more tense than usual, his shoulders taut and his eyes and ears strained for any sound or movement – like the shadow that suddenly detached itself from the wall as someone rounded the corner ahead of them.

“Guard,” he hissed, at the same time as there came a flash of light and the loud crack of a gunshot.

Steve didn’t think, just grabbed Peggy and pulled her close against him so fast their bodies slammed together almost painfully, pivoting so that his back - with his shield still strapped to it - was all that what was exposed. The bullets thudded one after another into the vibranium, rebounding harmlessly. It was a bit like being pelted with hail; more uncomfortable than painful, mostly small bursts of concentrated pressure against his back.

Peggy shifted in his arms, and he felt her draw one of the guns holstered at her hips. Her free hand slipped up his back and pushed gently, encouraging him to lean further down towards her while she stood on tip-toe to peer over his shoulder. She poked the gun out beneath his arm, and the recoil rippled through both of them as she fired.

There was a strangled shout from behind Steve and the heavy thud of a body falling to the floor. He could hear the satisfied smile in Peggy’s voice as she said quietly by his ear, “Got him.”

She lowered herself back down on to her heels and Steve pulled back slightly - but only slightly.

He had acted to protect her in the heat of the moment, and was only now realising how close they were. Their bodies were pressed against each other, not an inch of space between them, so Steve could feel Peggy’s heat even through their uniforms. One of his arms was wrapped around her shoulders, the other at the small of her back.

She could close enough that Steve really could see her expression now. She was no longer frowning, the crease in her forehead smoothed away as she looked up at him with those brilliant, bottomless brown eyes. Eyes that appeared to be fixed on his lips as he croaked out, “Good shot.”

Unable to stop himself, Steve found his eyes drifting down to her mouth.

He had, whenever the opportunity arose in the past, made a point of studying Peggy’s mouth. He knew the curves of her lips the way he knew the lines of his own hand; the slightly fuller lower lip, just begging to be nibbled on, the top lip with its elegant arches like a perfect Cupid’s bow. The exact shade of lipstick she favoured, something between scarlet and crimson that made him ache deep inside.

That mouth was now mere inches from his own. Her lips were slightly parted, so he could feel the warmth of her breath against his chin. All he would have to do was lean down, just a little, and his mouth would be on hers. He almost thought she was expecting it, the way she was staring, her head tilted upwards to give him a better angle.

Adrenaline had been pumping through him from the moment he saw the guard, but now his heart was beating hard against his ribs for an altogether different reason. He was going to do it. He probably couldn’t have picked a worse time but he didn’t care, he was going to move in those last few inches and …

“Steve! Carter!” 

Bucky burst out from behind the corner and Steve’s brain slowly realised that mere seconds had passed since the guard had first appeared, although it felt like an age.

“You’re both okay? Good.” Bucky grabbed Steve’s arm, pulling him away from Peggy and hurrying them both along the hall. “That was unfortunate. They’ll know we’re here now. We gotta do this fast if we’re gonna make it out.”

Right. They had a mission to complete.

Steve couldn’t resist a last glance at Peggy, though. She was right behind him, and when she met his gaze the corner of her mouth quirked almost imperceptibly upwards as if to say, _Later_.

Steve gave a tiny grin back. _Oh, most definitely_.


	3. Dressing Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I got you a present" and "You heard me. Take. It. Off."

“I got you a present,” Peggy announced without preamble as she swept into the kitchen, a smile on her lips and in her eyes.

A breeze followed her inside, swirling around the room and carrying with it the sharp, slightly earthy smell of autumn, of fresh rain and falling leaves. Steve paused in the middle of washing the dishes to watch his wife glide over to the table and set down the bags of shopping she was carrying. Perhaps it was because of the heels she always wore - although Steve was inclined to attribute it to natural grace - but she really did glide when she moved instead of walking, and it never failed to leave him mesmerized.

“You did?” he asked, the corner of his mouth curling up into a smile. “What for?”

“Well.” Peggy’s nosed scrunched up adorably. “I say I got you a present. It’s more of a present for both of us. At least I’m hoping you’ll think so.”

Curiosity well and truly piqued, Steve pulled his hands from the soapy water and turned to face her completely. “What kind of present is this, exactly?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not _that_. It’s a new dress. For our anniversary on Saturday.”

It wasn’t an anniversary that anyone else would recognise, as they had been married in May. Rather, it was the anniversary of their first real date. They had gone dancing at Peggy’s favourite club - or, to be specific, Peggy had taught Steve how to dance - and they had made a point of going back every year since on the same night and sharing a dance together.

“You got me a dress to wear at the club? That’s so thoughtful,” Steve laughed, then ducked out of the way as Peggy threw a tea-towel at him and raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. You got yourself a new dress?”

“Yes.”

“And just how is that a present for me?”

Peggy arched an eyebrow, her playful smile turning more sensual. “Because you get to look at me in it. And, if you’re good, you’ll get to take it off me afterwards.”

“I like that.”

“I thought you might. Do you want a preview?”

“Absolutely.”

She grinned, briefly, brilliantly, then snatched up one of the bags and hurried from the room with a quick, “Wait right here.”

Trying not to let his thoughts get too carried away, Steve waited patiently for the first couple of minutes, then started drumming a tattoo on the counter with his fingers, then turned to finish off the dishes just for the sake of having something to do.

He had just put the last plate in the drying rack when he heard the door swing open. He turned back around -

\- and had to swallow very hard.

The dress was a deep jade green satin that complemented Peggy’s dark hair and eyes. It was form-fitting, hugging the curves of her body, the skirt just brushing the tops of her knees. Over the top was a layer of sheer black lace that both added modesty and yet allowed for a tantalizing view of her arms and neckline. 

“Well?” Peggy asked, doing a slow twirl that made Steve want to groan aloud. “What do you think?”

“I think you need to take it off.”

Her eyes widened, her brow furrowing into a frown. “What?”

Steve’s voice was low, almost a growl. “You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

“Do you not like it?”

“Oh, I like it. But if you don’t take it off in the next few seconds,” Steve said, crossing towards her, “I’m going to have to rip it off you.” 

Understanding lit Peggy’s eyes and she gave a devilish smile even as she said in a stern voice, “Don’t you _dare_ , Steve. I spent a lot of money on this.”

“Then I suggest you take it off.” Steve had closed the gap between them and seized her waist in both his hands, pulling her against him. Dropping his head he covered her mouth with his in a searing kiss, nipping at the edges of her lips and tracing their outline with his tongue until they fell open against his onslaught. Peggy made a noise at the back of her throat and reached up to run her hands through his hair, pulling him even closer.

When he drew back her face was flushed, and her lipstick - her always perfect lipstick - was smudged. That always sent a strange surge of satisfaction through Steve, and today was no exception.

“Take it off,” he whispered again, planting another kiss on her lips, this one tender and gossamer light.

A smile curled Peggy’s lips and she traced his jawline with one finger. “Is that an order, Captain Rogers?”

“It’s a suggestion. A very _vehement_ suggestion,” he corrected, beginning a line of kisses down her throat. She tilted her head back to allow him better access.

To his immense relief her hands moved to the zip at the back of the dress, and he could hear the amusement in her voice as she murmured in his ear, “If this is how you feel now, I can’t wait until Saturday.”


	4. Massage Therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Do you ... well ... I mean ... I could give you a massage?"

“Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?”

Steve couldn’t see Peggy’s expression from where she had collapsed on to the bed, her face turned to the ceiling, but the silence that followed his suggestion seemed to him to be deeply sceptical.

It was only for a beat, then Peggy propped herself up on her elbows and looked at him with one eyebrow arched and a wry twist to her lips.

“Was that a question or a statement?”

“What?” Steve blinked, confused. That was not the response he had expected.

Peggy tried to shrug, then seemed to realise that in her current position that was more than a little awkward and settled for flicking her eyebrow. “Well, the syntax was that of a sentence but the inflection was for a question … so are you telling me you can give me a massage, or asking me if you _can_ give me a massage?”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Steve crossed the room and crawled on to the bed beside her. Leaning his weight on his arm so his body was facing hers, he gave her a smile and reached over to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. “Peg. C’mon.”

She held his gaze for a moment, then flopped back on to the bed with a frustrated groan.

“I know. I’m sorry. Being tired and sore and grumpy apparently brings out the pedant in me.” She looked down at her large, swollen stomach and scowled. Steve would never tell her, but being angry somehow made her more adorable. “Pregnancy does not agree with me.”

Leaning forward, Steve pressed a kiss to her shoulder and murmured, “What can I do? Unfortunately the serum didn’t give me the ability to carry the baby for you but I could get a hot water bottle? Ice cream? Whatever you want.”

A tired, tender smile touched her lips.

“Actually a massage does sound nice,” she said, wiggling her ankles around.

“You got it.”

Steve crawled back to the edge of the bed and lifted her legs into his lap. One at a time he started rubbing them, moving his hands over her calves and ankles in slow, circular movements. Peggy shifted slightly on the bed to give him more access and groaned appreciatively.

“Oh, that’s perfect. You are a wonderful husband.”

“I think this is the least I can do given it’s partly my fault you’re in this condition,” Steve grinned, kneading firmly around her joins where he knew from her complaints it was the most sore. 

“Only partly?” Peggy murmured, but there was a smile in her voice.

He chuckled. “I seem to remember you being there as well.”

There was no response, and after several silent seconds he looked up to see Peggy’s eyes had fluttered closed and her breathing was slow and even. Asleep like this she looked slightly younger, more vulnerable, her lips parted and her expression peaceful. Steve’s heart gave a pleasant ache at the sight.

Smiling, he gently set her legs back down and then stretched out beside her. He wrapped an arm around her, resting his hand on the curve of her stomach, pulled her back against him so her head fell against his shoulder, and then just lay there, relishing the feel of his pregnant wife in his arms until he felt his own eyes begin to close.


	5. Dreaming of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I understand the whole sleep talking thing but what I don't understand is the princess dragon dream and why I'm in it."

Steve wasn’t sure what time it was when he woke, but it had been to be early morning judging from the pale, still slightly grey light filtering in around the edges of the curtains. Eyelids heavy, not quite ready yet to wake up properly, he rolled over with a low groan, only to find himself facing a pair of wide, curious brown eyes.

“Good morning,” Peggy wriggled forward to press a kiss to his nose.

His throat was thick with sleep, but he managed to croak out, “How long have you been awake?”

“A while. You were talking in your sleep again.”

“Again? Did it wake you?” It must have, given how early it was and neither of them had anything they needed to be awake for this morning. “Sorry. The doctor said it’s common in soldiers, it should stop in time …”

She shook her head, not needing an apology. “I understand the whole sleep talking thing … but what I don’t understand is the princess dragon dream and why I’m in it.”

That threw him, and he stared at her in confusion for a moment before the muzzy veil of sleep shifted and some of the details of the dream he had been having came rushing back. Another groan, this one of embarrassment, rumbled its way out of him and his pressed his face into the pillow to hide his embarrassment.

Beside him he could feel Peggy shaking with quiet laughter, and then he heard the rustle of the bedclothes as she moved closer before he felt her hand on his shoulder and one of her feet rubbing his calves.

“Come on. Tell me.”

He shifted to look at her out of one eye. “Mmm … well. There was a dragon. That was also a princess. Or were you the princess? Maybe it was both of you. It’s a bit fuzzy.”

“I was a princess?” Peggy smiled. “Were you rescuing me? My knight in shining armour?”

“Actually I think you were the one rescuing me.”

Her smiled stretched a little wider. “Do you often have dreams where I rescue you?”

He was smiling now himself and abruptly shifted their positions, so she was lying underneath him and he was holding himself on his arms above her. He leaned down to kiss her, and suddenly felt much more awake as her   
arms wound around his neck and her feet slid up his legs.

“Come on, Peggy,” he whispered in her ear. “You know you’re in all my dreams.”


	6. Convincing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Kiss me."

“Kiss me.”

Steve stared down at the woman in front of him. He had noticed her coming across the bar, of course. She would be difficult not to notice, with her dark, wavy hair, big brown eyes and a sensual, curving mouth that smiled as if she knew something no one else did.

But he had sort of assumed she was just coming to order a drink or maybe wanted to talk to Bucky (women were always crossing bars to talk to Bucky), and wouldn’t even notice him. He would never have expected her to stop directly in front of him, touch him on the arm as if they had known each other for years and ask him to kiss her.

He must have misheard her. That couldn’t actually be what she had said, could it? He was finding it difficult to think properly with her looking up at him like that.

“Excuse me?” he finally settled on.

“Kiss me,” she said again. 

Behind him, Steve thought he heard Bucky say quietly, “Don’t ask. Just do it.”

He ignored him, and opened his mouth to ask the woman if she was alright when she cut across him. “Look, I realise you don’t actually know me. But do you see that man sat at the table I came from? He won’t take ‘no’ for an answer and while I could just break his nose I’m really not in the mood to deal with the hassle that will inevitably follow. I told him my boyfriend was at the bar, and it would really help sell it if you kissed me. So. Will you kiss me, please?”

Steve had glanced briefly over her shoulder as she spoke and the guy she was talking about was indeed still hovering at the table she had left, darting suspicious glances their way. He had a mean look about him, and Steve could see why the woman wanted to get rid of him.

In any other situation, Steve definitely wouldn’t have been complaining about being given the chance to kiss this girl. But he felt unaccountably flustered as he looked back down at her.

“I, ah … I mean, I guess …?”

Although her posture didn’t change, her expression was wholly relieved. She didn’t give him a chance to change his mind, leaning up on tip-toes, slipping a hand behind her neck and pulling his head down.  
Her lips were soft beneath his, and her perfume filled his nostrils; flowery, with just a hint of spice. He could feel the warmth of her body, and it seemed to send sparks of electricity jolting up and down his spine. Lost in the moment, Steve brought his hand up to her lower back, pressing her just a little bit closer.

When they broke apart he felt flushed, and the secretive little smile was back on her face.

“That should hopefully be convincing,” she said.

Feeling suddenly bold, Steve smiled back at her. “You know, I usually like to know a girl’s name before I kiss her. And maybe buy her a drink.”

“Oh, do you?” Amusement glinted in her eyes.

“Yeah. And it would probably be more convincing if you stick around for a while.”

She appeared to consider this. “That’s a good point. Alright. I’m Peggy.”

“Steve. It’s nice to meet you, Peggy.”


	7. An Unexpected Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Marry me."

“Marry me.”

As distractions went, Peggy had to admit it was a good one.

The spy they had been tailing was on to them, they had both seen that; he had been darting suspicious glances their way when he thought they weren’t looking, and every now and then his fingers would brush the side of his jacket where, Peggy had no doubt, he was hiding a gun.

The trouble was, he hadn’t made the drop-off yet. They needed him to actually make contact with the man he was working for, and he wasn’t going to do that if he thought two agents were following him. And if he got up and left the restaurant now, they would lose him. Leaning across the table under the pretense of feeding Steve a bite of her meal, Peggy had said in a low voice, “We need to distract him, make him believe we’re like any other couple out on a date.”

What she hadn’t expected was for Steve to get up from the table, drop to his knee and propose to her.

“I - what?”

“Marry me,” he said again.

Although she knew it was just a ploy, Peggy still found it hard to tear her eyes away from Steve even for the briefest second to glance at their mark. He was watching, along with the rest of the diners, and something in his face had relaxed a little, although there was still a suspicious twist to his mouth.

It was hard to focus on him though, when Steve was staring up at her with an intensity in his light blue eyes that had her heart drumming rapidly against her ribs. Nervous hope filled his smile, and for a brief, mad moment Peggy almost thought he was serious.

And then he brought out the ring.

Peggy almost knocked her plate to the ground in shock. There, glittering on a small cushion of black velvet, was a simple but elegantly cut diamond, clasped in gold, with a smaller stone on each side. It was the ring she would have picked out for herself if she had been given a choice.

What was Steve doing with an engagement ring? Was it a fake? Had he thought to bring a prop just in case they needed to stage such a diversion? That would explain why he had been so quick at her suggestion.

Except … surely a fake ring wouldn’t sparkle like that?

Nerves fluttered in her stomach, up and down her spine and arms. Peggy had realised a long time ago that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Steve. That he was the only man she would ever want to marry. It had been a quiet realisation, terrifying and exhilarating all at once, come to in the privacy of her own mind.

But she had never said it aloud. And neither, she realised now, had Steve. Just because she had come to that conclusion didn’t mean that he had, so despite the fact that she was in love with him and intended to marry him one day didn’t mean she had any reason to even consider this proposal as anything other than a diversion to ensure they got their job done.

“Peggy,” Steve was saying, and was it her imagination or was his voice trembling slightly? “I love you. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Will you please marry me?”

A hush had gone through the restaurant, everyone waiting expectantly for her answer. Someone a few table across shouted, “Say yes, honey!”

That seemed to break whatever momentary paralysis had come over Peggy and she threw back her head, smiling at Steve, ready to play her part to perfection. “Yes. Yes, of course I’ll marry you, darling.”

Cheers erupted and applause started as Steve pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly. He slipped the cool metal ring on to her finger and Peggy couldn’t help gazing at it in awe as they sat back down.

The spy was now ordering something from one of the waiters, apparently content to stay and wait for his contact. It had worked then. Good.

Meeting Steve’s gaze Peggy gave a small nod, and then couldn’t help asking, “So … you just happened to have this on you?” 

He flushed a little, hesitated, and then leaned in towards her. “Actually, I’ve been carrying that around for weeks.”

Peggy thought her heart might have stopped beating.

“Weeks?”

“I was waiting for the right moment. I definitely wasn’t planning on doing this during a mission, but I couldn’t think of anything else to distract him.”

Peggy looked down at the ring and then back up at him. “What are you saying?”

He reached across the table and took her hand. “I’m saying I meant everything I said just now. I really do want to marry you, Peggy.”

“You’re really asking me?” 

“Yes. Will you?”

She had to swallow before she could reply. “Yes. I will.”

If the other customers thought it strange when the young man practically leaped across the table to pull his fiancée into another kiss, they didn’t say so, but just smiled and shook their heads and put it down to them being young and in love.


	8. Can I Have This Dance?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "You did all of this for me?"

“You did all of this for me?”

Peggy walked slowly into the centre of the room, hardly able to believe this was really Avengers Tower. The last time she had been here it had been all smooth chrome, black leather and shiny glass, everything as sleek and modern as money could buy. Tonight it had been transformed into a dance hall from the forties.

Dark red drapes framed the windows; Peggy absently trailed her fingers down one, enjoying the feel of the cool silk against her skin as she took in the rest of the decorations. A chandelier now hung from the ceiling, bathing the room in a low, yellow light, with a few candelabras stood next to several large bouquets of flowers for atmospheric effect.

Apart from the bar in the back corner all the furniture was gone, leaving only a single table set for two, and a wide expanse of shiny parquet flooring against which her heels made a gentle clacking noise as she walked.

Steve hadn’t moved from where he stood by the doorway, but his eyes followed her as she explored. “Well, I still felt bad about missing our date at the Stork Club.”

Smiling, Peggy felt a contented warmth spread out from her chest, little thrills of anticipation running up and down her spine. No one ever made her feel as breathless and excited as she felt with Steve.  
She shot him a glance out of the corner of her eye. “And Tony just agreed to lend you the Tower?”

“I may have had to promise him a favour or two.”

“That could be dangerous.”

“You’re worth it.” 

He had moved up behind her and whispered the last three words directly into her ear. She shivered, her nerves seeming to hum with the vibrations of his voice. Turning to face him, she gazed up into his face and lifted one hand to trace his jawline.

“How are we going to dance without any music?”

“Easily fixed.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small remote control. With a press of a button, music started drifting across the room from some well hidden speakers. Peggy tilted her head a little, listening to the familiar refrain: _I’ll be seeing you, in all the old familiar places …_

Steve was grinning down at her. “I did consider hiring a band. But I thought this would be easier.”

“More private, too, which I prefer.”

Peggy held out her hand. Taking it, Steve pulled her into a close embrace, his other hand sliding to the small of her back. She rested her other hand on his shoulder (taking a moment to enjoy the muscular feel of it under her fingers), and stepped closer to him, so there was less than an inch between them.

“Do you still need me to teach you?” she asked, lifting her face up.

“To dance with actual steps, yeah. Although according to Natasha, nowadays you can just kind of sway and it’s considered dancing.”

He started moving his hips from side to side in a slow, rhythmic motion, pulling her along with him. Peggy couldn’t help laughing a little, and could feel Steve’s chest shaking as he chuckled along with her.

She let herself move with him, resting her head in the hollow of his shoulder. She could hear the steady thud of his heartbeat, and smell the sandalwood cologne he wore. Breathing deeply, she let the feel, and sound and smell of him fill her senses; this was warmth and love and laughter and safety. This was home.

“Thank you for all of this,” she murmured against his skin, “It’s wonderful.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “You’re welcome. I love you, Peggy.”

“I love you, too.”


	9. Teasing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "If you keep looking at me like that we won't make it to a bed."

“If you keep looking at me like that, we won’t make it to a bed.”

Steve whispered the words in a low voice so only Peggy would hear, but kept his eyes on the rest of the party so that if anyone else happened to look over at them it might not be quite so obvious that his thoughts were very much not on the celebration everyone else was enjoying.

Despite those best of intentions, he couldn’t help looking down when Peggy gave a quite chuckle beside him. Immediately he knew he was in trouble; her dark eyes were bright as they glanced sideways at him, the same look she wore whenever she thought she was being challenged.

Slowly, deliberately, she licked her lips and murmured, “Do you really think we need a bed?”

Steve bit back a groan. As if he wasn’t distracted enough. Perhaps he should have phrased that better, something more like: _Please stop looking at me like that, because I only have so much self-control and I don’t know if it’s enough to last the twenty minute cab ride back to our apartment._

“Peggy,” he managed to growl out, not needing more than the single word to voice his frustration.

But apparently Peggy was determined to break him. “Don’t blame me. This is the first time I’ve see you in a tuxedo. It’s a very attractive sight, you know.”

He couldn’t blame her, because if she hadn’t been teasing him he still would have wanted to peel her out of the tight red dress she was wearing.

“Is it?” he murmured, only vaguely aware of what he was saying. 

“Yes, it is. I really can’t help it if all I want to do is rip it off you. Preferably with my teeth.”

Steve swallowed, sure by now that even if he was, by some miracle, managing to keep his face impassive, his body would obviously betray his thoughts to anyone who cared to look over. But when Peggy was staring up at him like that, it was impossible to think of anything but his desire to kiss every inch of her skin that he could reach.

His eyes came to rest on the curve of her lips, still shiny from where she had licked them, one corner tilted up in a knowing smirk. Something like electricity jolted through his stomach, hot and urgent.

Screw it.

“Peggy. We need to go.” Grabbing her hand, he tugged her in the direction of the door. “Come on. They won’t miss us.”

They slipped out unnoticed, and as Steve tried to attract the attention of a cab he couldn’t help thinking that this would have been so much easier if the charity event they had been asked to attend had been hosted at a hotel instead of a museum.

“It’s too bad we don’t have our own car,” Peggy sighed, running her thumb up and down his palm, “Then we wouldn’t have to make it home.”

Steve just grinned as a cab drew up alongside them. “We’re not going home.”

The nearest hotel was only five minutes away. They made it inside the door of their room but, as Steve had predicted, didn’t quite get to the bed. Not until the night was already halfway gone, anyway.


	10. Not So Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice."

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” 

For a moment Steve felt unable to breathe, to blink, to do anything but feel the slow slide of his stomach down until it was somewhere level with his toes. 

Maybe he had misheard. Peggy had said it softly, casually, like an offhand remark about the weather, but surely she wouldn’t just throw something like that out there? He had to be mistaken. He had to have mixed up the words, although he had no idea what she might have actually said for him to have heard that instead. 

Something like panic was beginning to rise up inside him, constricting his chest and threatening to close off his airway. One hand moved to his pocket, to pull out his inhaler, but he paused and instead forced himself to take a long, slow breath, and then slowly raise his eyes to meet Peggy’s.

She was watching him curiously from across the library table, head tilted slightly to one side, but Steve couldn’t begin to identify what other emotions she might be feeling. All her little tics and signs - the quirking of her eyebrows when she found something funny, the crinkling at the corners of her eyes when she was happy, the tightening of her jaw or the furrow that appeared in her brow when she was frustrated and angry - they were all absent.

“I … ah. You have,” he managed to say, his dry mouth making his voice quiet and hoarse. 

He couldn’t bring himself to make it a question; it would be insulting to both of them.

Of course Peggy had noticed. She was observant as well as intelligent, and she always had a string of admirers at her heels. It would be foolish to think she wouldn’t pick up on someone’s interest in her.  
But she was also one of the most beautiful girls in the school as well as one of the most popular and Steve … well, Steve’s best friend might have been the star of the football team but he was also skinny and shy with chronic asthma, anaemia and stomach ulcers, made an outsider because of how much time he spent in hospital and because even when he was in school he usually had his head in his sketchbook.

Girls weren’t exactly lining up to talk to him. Especially not girls like Peggy Carter, who was everything Steve admired in a person.

Fleeting amusement touched her lips. “Yes.”

Heat burned in his cheeks. If he closed his eyes he wouldn’t have to look at her, to see the exact moment the pity came into her face, but that would feel like running away.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. Peggy arched one questioning eyebrow. “I mean, if … I didn’t meant to make you feel uncomfortable … if I was staring, or, just. I’m sorry.”

It had been too much to hope for, to spend just a few hours with her finishing the history project they had been assigned to work on together. A few hours sat across a library table from her, close enough to find out what perfume she wore (flowery, with a hint of spice). A few hours to savour in his memory the next time his ulcers landed him in hospital.

“You didn’t.”

Steve blinked at her. “What?”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” she said. “I wasn’t looking for an apology, Steve.”

“You … weren’t?”

“No.” She paused for a moment, her eyes darting briefly away before locking with his again. “I brought it up because I was wondering if you were ever going to get around from looking to actually asking me out.”

Steve repeated the words to himself before he believed them. His heart, already working twice as fast just being this near to Peggy, had started thumping painfully against his ribs. Sweat had started beading on his palms, and one of his hands was hovering over his inhaler again. Just in case.

“You _want_ me to ask you out?”

Peggy rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Are you going to keep me waiting all day?”

“I - no! No. Um. Peggy, will you go out with me this weekend?”

“I’m free on Saturday. You can pick me up at eight. Don’t be late.”

He shook his head. Late? No way. He would be there early. Maybe at seven thirty. With flowers. “It’s a date.”


	11. Green Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Wait a minute. Are you jealous?"

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

The words were still forming in Steve’s head even as he blurted them out, and he stopped in his tracks as the implications sank in.

It was like the final puzzle piece being fitted in, a kind of silent click as suddenly everything made sense; Peggy’s coolness throughout the evening, the way her words had been unusually clipped, the way she seemed to be tense, like a tightly wound coil waiting to spring free. And the glint in her eye, that Steve had last seen behind the muzzle of a gun as she fired five bullets into his shield (which still bore the marks).  
Inexperienced, overwhelmed and distracted by war, by the changes in his own body, by what was still waiting for him, he hadn’t understood that look then. Now he thought he just might, although he didn’t know why it was there.

Across the room, Peggy had also paused in the middle of taking off her earrings. Her back was to him, but her shoulders had raised and her spine stiffened in response to his accusation.

“No,” she said shortly, continuing to take off her jewellery but not turning to face him. “I am not jealous.”

It was on the tip of Steve’s tongue to ask, Are you sure?, but an uneasiness in his stomach stopped him. Peggy wasn’t typically reticent about her feelings, but if she felt like he was interrogating her it wouldn’t encourage her to be forthcoming.

“You’re not happy about something,” he settled on, taking a cautious step towards her.

She made a non-committal noise, and after a few moments of silence Steve risked pressing further.

“You don’t need to be jealous. There’s no reason for it. You know that, right?”

The words hung in the air between them, and then Peggy finally turned around. There was still something flat and vulnerable in her eyes that made Steve’s heart give a painful twist, but there was a wry smile playing about her lips.

“Isn’t there?” she said, folding her arms, “Are you telling me there aren’t hordes of girls flinging themselves at the feet of Captain America?”

“None that I’m paying attention to.”

Peggy watched him for a moment, then glanced away. A red blush was beginning to stain her cheeks, and she bit her lip for several long seconds before saying in a low, almost inaudible voice, “You pay attention to Agent Romanoff.”

Surprise made Steve jerk back a little. “Natasha? This is about _Natasha_?”

Peggy scowled at the wall, her fingers digging into her arms where they were folded, but although she opened and closed her mouth several times she didn’t say anything.

Finally Steve ran a hand through his hair and asked in bewildered tones, “I thought you liked Nat?”

“I do!” Peggy burst out, then let out a strangled, frustrated noise. Briefly she covered her face with her hands, then dropped them and finally raised her eyes to meet Steve’s. “I do like her. It’s not about her, exactly. I just … it’s obvious you’re close to her, and I …”

“You what?” Steve had to ask, desperate to understand, although he hoped by voicing the question he wasn’t pushing too hard.

The ticking of the clock was unbearably loud as Peggy took a breath, like she was gathering the ragged ends of her thoughts together.

“Me being here, in this time, it wasn’t planned. It was a - a happy accident,” she said slowly, carefully, picking her words with great deliberation. “But I know that you were here for a long time before that. That you’d started to build a life that you had to assume I wouldn’t be in. And maybe … maybe move on.”

Slow understanding started to creep over Steve. His body ached to close the gap between them, to pull her into her arms and reassure her, but he bit his tongue, let Peggy keep talking. 

“I’m not blaming you for that. I had to do the same, although I - I never stopped …” She stopped, shaking her head, looking angry with herself. “The point is, I don’t want to you to feel _obligated_. To be with me. Because somehow I turned up here, and because I still feel … if you don’t, if you were moving on with someone, anyone, and you would rather … I’ll understand, Steve. I want you to be happy.”

Near silence settled over the room, the only sound their breathing. Then Steve crossed to the nightstand beside his bed, and after rummaging around in the drawer for a moment tossed something across to Peggy.

“Your compass?” She clicked it open, to look at the black-and-white photograph of her that he had cut to shape and pasted in was kept. “You still have this?”

“I carried that around in my pocket every single day from the day I woke up to the day you arrived.”

Her eyes met his, and the flatness was gone; instead they shone a little bit too brightly, a silent question mark in them.

“I carried that,” Steve said again, “And every single day I looked at it and I thought of you and I missed you so much. So much, Peggy. You know when they told me what had happened to me, about how many years had passed, the only thing I could think was that I’d never get to dance with you and it felt like I’d been punched in the gut. Worse, even. And that feeling never really went away, until the day you got here.”

A tear slipped from the corner of Peggy’s eyes, glittering in the dim light, and she lifted a hand to dash it away. Steve took another few steps forward, so he was stood right in front of her, towering over her.

“That day, that you were suddenly _here_ , was the best damn day of my life, Peggy. Obligation has nothing to do with why I’m with you. I could never move on, with Nat, with anyone, because they would never be you.”

He reached up to cradle her face in his hands, and pressed his lips to hers in a swift, searing kiss. Peggy tilted her face upwards, trying to move closer to him, her hands tangled in his shirt. His compass had fallen to the floor.

Pulling back slightly, Steve rested his forehead against hers, letting their noses bump together. “And as far as Nat goes-”

“-I know you’re not, well, _fondueing_ ,” Peggy laughed quietly. Her posture had relaxed, her shoulders lowering, her face bright with its usual warmth that made Steve’s heart sing. “I just saw how friendly you were and it made me wonder if there _was_ anyone …”

“Well, there’s not. I want you, no one else. You’re what makes me happy.”

Peggy smiled, brilliantly, radiantly, and stood up on her toes to kiss him again. Her hands slid up under his shirt and ran over his back, making his nerves hum with electricity, and Steve let his own hands trail down from her face to her shoulders and down her back, pulling her snugly against him while he teased her lips with his tongue.

“I love you,” she murmured between their open mouths, so he could feel the warmth of her breath against his skin.

“I love you,” he whispered back, moving backwards until they half-fell on to the bed.

He rolled them over so he was above Peggy, and moved his mouth to her neck as they worked to divest each other of their clothes. She made a noise in the back of her throat that filled Steve with a deep satisfaction, and arched her head backwards to allow him greater access.

“By morning,” he said in between kisses, as he pulled the fabric of Peggy’s bra away and moved down to her collarbone and then lower towards her breasts. “You are going to know that this is definitely not an obligation, and that there is no reason at all for you to feel jealous.”

“Mmm, I don’t know …” Peggy let out another pleased noise as Steve bit lightly down on one of her nipples and then soothed it with a kiss. “If this is what happens when I get jealous, I might have to try it more often.”

“Or maybe we could just do this without the actual jealousy?”

“That works too.”


	12. Lucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?"

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

Pain stabbed through Steve’s head, a steady dull beat just behind his eyes, no doubt thanks to the extra shots he had let himself be talked into having last night. He recalled an argument something along the lines of ‘why not, what could it hurt?’ and now he had an answer: it could leave him with a tongue that felt twice its normal size in a very dry mouth, stumbling over a reply while possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen leaned casually against the door frame, arms folded and dark eyes glittering with curious amusement.

“I, ah …” He pulled the sheets over the leg that was sticking out to stall for time, eyes darting briefly to the clock on the wall and then back to her.

How it was possible for anyone to look so good at 8 a.m. on a Sunday morning Steve couldn’t begin to guess. Probably to torture hungover idiots like himself. She was dressed in jeans and a loose white shirt, her glossy dark hair curling gently around her shoulders, and even with his faculties impaired Steve could see the ghost of a smile playing about her lips.

Well, that was something. She would have been perfectly within her right to come at him screaming - it was what he would expect most people to do if they found a naked stranger in their bed - but if she found the situation funny there was a chance, however small, that he might just emerge with some of his dignity intact.

“I brought Howard home last night.” Thankfully memory and speech came flooding back in a rush at the same time. “He'd had a few too many and could barely walk … it was late and my clothes were kinda, well, not really wearable so he said I could crash here.”

His clothes were still a crumpled heap by the wall where he had tossed them. Given how many drinks Howard had had before he threw up, Steve wasn’t sure if it was worth washing them or if he should just burn them.

“I’m sorry, I thought this was just a guest room, Howard didn’t mention …” he trailed off, looking around.

It wasn’t exactly a personalised room; the pictures on the walls were generic prints, and there were no photos or decorations that suggested a personal touch. Though there was a hairbrush on the dresser, now he looked, next to a make-up bag, deodorant, a bottle of perfume and a well-thumbed book the title of which Steve couldn’t quite make out.

“I wish it surprised me that the bloody man’s forgotten I’m staying here, but very little Howard Stark does surprises me any more.”

Steve jerked his eyes back to the woman and was surprised, a more than a little gratified, to see her gaze briefly drift down to his bare chest before moving to meet his.

“It’s alright,” she smiled, and Steve felt a flutter of nerves in his stomach. “I was at the office all night anyway, so it’s not really an inconvenience.”

He frowned. “On a Saturday?”

“My boss was very clear that if my paperwork wasn’t done by tomorrow, I’d be in serious trouble.” She rolled her eyes, but there was an edge of exasperation and anger in her voice. “I’m Peggy, by the way.”

“Steve. It’s nice to meet you.”

He heard the absurdity as soon as he spoke and shook his head but it just made her laugh, her mouth stretching wide and her whole face lighting up. It sucked the breath right out of Steve and he stared, thinking, _Oh._

“Yes, it is rather,” she said finally, still grinning. “Shall I get you some clothes? I think there’s some laundry floating about somewhere. It might be a great fit, but I imagine it will be better that what you were wearing.”

“Ah, yeah, please. Then maybe I can make you breakfast,” he suggested, eager to find some way to turn this around. “To make up for stealing your bed?”

She glanced over her shoulder as she disappeared out of the room. “I’m starting to think I’m lucky you did.”

Steve had to agree.


	13. A Long Wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "You need to wake up, because I can't do this without you."

“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

The only reply was the quiet, high-pitched bleeping of the machines monitoring Peggy’s vitals. It hadn’t changed in days, a steady beat filling her hospital room. Her doctors assured Steve that was a good sign, that she was stable, but that was just their way of saying they didn’t know when she would wake up.

If she would wake up.

Leaning forward in the chair he kept pulled up against her bed, Steve reached over and gently stroked the hair away from her forehead. It was soft against his skin, curling around his fingers, and he tried to hold on to the hope that it wouldn’t be long before he could tell Peggy how much he loved the feel of it and hear her reply.

The serum had been a risk, they had both known that. It had never been tested on a human before; there was no way of knowing if the results would be what they wanted. They had gone into this thing with eyes wide open. But as Peggy had said, as her Alzheimer’s worsened and her lucid days grew fewer and farther apart, it was as if she were dying anyway. If the serum didn’t work, at least she wouldn’t have lost herself entirely before she went.

It was a reasonable argument, although it hadn’t entirely soothed Steve’s fears. It had been a miracle that the formula used on him had worked, and Erskine had been alive to complete that himself. Could they really expect another miracle from cobbled together pieces of Erskine’s research?

But Peggy had respected the dignity of his choice. He had no right to do any less for her. And Steve couldn’t pretend that if it did work, if it all went well … he wanted the future that would offer.

And it had worked, hadn’t it? The wrinkles and blemishes of time had been soothed away as if they had never been, her hair returned to its glossy, dark brown shine. It was strange, in a way; Steve had finally gotten used to the fact that Peggy was in her nineties, and now she looked no different than she had the day he had crashed that plane in the ocean.

But she hadn’t woken up since they gave her the serum.

“Do you hear me, Peg?” Steve brought his hand down to take hers, lying unmoving by her side, and lifted it to his lips. “I know you’re in there somewhere. I know you, and you won’t give up without a fight. So if you can hear me, than please. I need you to wake up. I need you here.”

He wasn’t sure he knew how to face a world that didn’t have Peggy Carter in it, and that thought frightened him to his very core.

He had had no idea, the first time he saw her, the day he watched her punch Hodge for his insubordination and felt his heart thump unsteadily against his ribs, just how important, how _necessary_ , she would be to him. How thoughts of Peggy and her unwavering faith in him, her support, would be his anchor.

When he had first woken after being in the ice and been told that seventy years had passed, his first thought had been Peggy. What would she do? What would she expect _him_ to do?

If Peggy hadn’t been involved in S.H.I.E.L.D., Steve wasn’t sure he would have joined. Perhaps he would have been forced to, especially after the Tesseract, but it was knowing that Peggy believed in this organisation and its potential that had helped make up his mind.

Any hope of a future together had been lost, but somehow knowing she was still there, that she believed in him, in what he could do if he wanted to, was enough.

Steve wasn’t ready to lose that. He wasn’t ready to lose her. It would be like losing sunshine, losing air. He couldn’t fathom being without her.

He closed his eyes and sighed, his breath loud in the quiet room.

“I love you, Peggy.” 

The steady bleep of the machines answered.

And then he felt the faintest pressure of her fingers against his hand.

Steve’s head snapped up, his heart leaping, and let out a shuddering breath when he saw the glimmer of brown beneath Peggy’s eyelids. Relief crashed over him in a wave; if he hadn’t been sitting already his knees would have given out. He squeezed Peggy’s hand and kissed it over and over.

A tiny smile curved her lips.

“I’ve waited seventy years to hear you say that.”


	14. One Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I'm pregnant."

“I’m pregnant.”

The radio was silent. Peggy could feel the stares of the other S.H.I.E.L.D agents on her back, hear the unnatural hush in the control room that says everyone is straining to listen, but she didn’t care. All she could focus on was the static crackle from the radio, the deafening silence that didn’t drown out the pounding of her own blood in her ears.

Cold, terrible fear unfurled itself in her stomach, an icy wave riding up and threatening to choke her because she’d been here before, she’d heard that static echo mocking her before and she couldn’t do it, not again.

“Steve?” She knee she should try and hide the crack in her voice - she was the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D, she had an image to maintain - but it didn’t seem to matter any more. “Steve, did you hear me? Did you hear what I said?”

Silence again. Ticking away, and then -

“I heard you, Peggy.”

The relief was like a physical force crushing her with its weight, making her legs feel weak.

“I just, I needed a minute.”

“Don’t do that to me.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice was quiet and she knew he was thinking about it too, the last time they were separated by so many miles, the only connection between them a tenuous radio link. “You’re pregnant?”

The distant sound of gunfire made the radio crackle. Peggy had certainly not intended to have this conversation while he was still in the middle of a mission, but when their other communications went dark until all that left was a single audio link and Steve had grunted over it, “I don’t know if we’re gonna get out of this one”, something inside of her had snapped.

Because she wasn’t going through this again. They weren’t going through this again. It would be too cruel, too ironic. It had taken them seventy years and two miracle serums to get them to where they were and Peggy was damned if they had gone through all of that for her to lose him now to what should have been a run-of-the-mill mission that had somehow gone horribly wrong.

So she had snatched the radio unit off the agent operating it and blurted out the one thing she knew would give Steve the determination to get home, no matter what.

Which admittedly meant announcing her pregnancy not just to her husband but to the whole of S.H.I.E.L.D, but she would deal with that later.

“Yes,” she said now, fear making her voice sharp. “I’m pregnant. So you need to come back. I need you here. I’m not raising this child without its father, Steve. Do you understand?”

_You can’t leave me again. I can’t bear it._

“I understand. I’m comin’ home, Peggy. To you and our baby.”

Her body was trembling, but her voice came out steady. It was the voice she used to give orders, her Director’s voice, Steve called it, but it was the voice they both needed to hear right now, because it wasn’t the voice she would use to say goodbye. “Good. If you’re not on the way back in an hour - an hour Captain Rogers - I will be leading the bloody extraction team myself.”

It was a threat and plea and promise all rolled it one, and it worked.

“Understood, Director Carter. One hour.”


	15. The Magic Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Steve proposing to Peggy at Disney World.

The fireworks burst across the night sky in a bright, golden shower, sparks raining down over the iconic Cinderella castle. Floodlights at the bottom of the building bathed it in a deep blue glow, and as more fireworks exploded over the towers - this time in reds and greens - to the familiar, gentle tune of _When You Wish Upon A Star_ , it really did feel like magic was permeating the air.

Peggy let out a quiet sigh of contentment, snuggling back into Steve’s arms where they stood watching the display in a marginally less crowded corner of The Magic Kingdom. Steve smiled and pulled her close, hoping she was too busy watching the fireworks to notice the small, box-shaped bulge in his jacket pocket.

“This is perfect,” she announced, turning her head slightly to grin up at him. “The perfect end to a perfect trip.”

Privately, Steve hoped that it would still get a little more perfect, but he didn’t say that just yet.

“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it.” He spoke close to her ear so she could hear him over the music. “I wanted it to be special for you.”

“I still can’t believe you remembered.”

“That you always wanted to visit Disney World? When you put so much emphasis on the _lifelong wish_ part?”

Peggy laughed. “It was five years ago and we were both drunk. I barely remember telling you.”

“Maybe I wasn’t as drunk you think.”

In truth he had been every bit as drunk as Peggy probably remembered. It had been during their sophomore year of college; there had been a party in the room Steve shared with Bucky to celebrate someone’s birthday and long after everyone else had fallen asleep or gone on to a club, Steve and Peggy had stayed up drinking and talking. In a schnapps-induced daze Peggy had confessed that when she was growing up she had longed to be Belle from _Beauty and the Beast_ and that she was determined to visit Disney World one day. Steve didn’t remember much else of that night, but that had stuck with him.

That, he mused idly, was probably the moment he had fallen in love with her. When this amazingly fierce, strong woman, whom he had first met when she broke the nose of some guy who tried to feel her up in a bar, felt comfortable enough with him to admit she secretly adored Disney films and still kind of wanted to be a Disney Princess.

“Well, either way, lifelong wish fulfilled.” Peggy reached up to press a kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”

This was it, this was the moment. He knew it, could feel it deep in his gut.

“You’re welcome. Although … I was hoping you could make a wish of mine come true as well.”

And if that wasn’t the cheesiest thing he had ever said in his entire life. But, hell, he was in Disney World with the love of his life. If this wasn’t a time to be cheesy then when was?

Except apparently he was giving Peggy different ideas.

“Steve. Are you asking me to have sex with you in the middle of Disney World? Because if you are …” She arched an eyebrow, eyes glittering with amusement. “… it had just better not be in a place where any children are likely to stumble across us.”

Steve choked on a laugh. “Ah, no. Well, maybe later … but right now, I was meaning more …”

He paused, moving one hand from Peggy’s waist to fish in his jacket pocket for the small, velvet box he had been carrying around all week. He watched with satisfaction as Peggy’s smile faded a little and her eyes widened as he pulled it out and flicked it open.

The ring had been his mother’s; it was a single diamond in a gold band, the only flourishes a curling design carved into the gold immediately on either side of the diamond.

“… if you’ll agree to marry me.”

“Steve. It’s beautiful … I - yes, yes, of _course_ I’ll marry you.”

She turned in his arms and pulled his head down to hers; Steve had to slip the ring on to finger by feel, as he could see while Peggy was so busy kissing him and murmuring, “Yes,” over and over.

It did also meant that they missed the rest of the fireworks show, but neither of them minded much. They had enough magic of their own.


	16. Sneaking Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hiding/hoping not to get caught kiss.

After over a year in Europe, working together and fighting alongside each other, Steve and Peggy had learned how to sneak around.

They knew when they were least likely to be needed by Colonel Phillips or another officer, which meetings they could afford to miss and when they might be able to slip away for a while without anyone noticing. They paid attention to which rooms were used and when, and found quiet routes to the ones that were empty the most. They grew to know the subtleties of each other’s expressions until they could communicate with brief glances, head tilts and eyebrow quirks (notes were discreet, but easily lost).

Not that their relationship was a secret, exactly. It wasn’t. As Bucky had once said, a blind man would be able to see the way they looked at one another. And it wasn’t easy to hide a relationship when one person was caught on camera with a picture of the other in their compass. But they were fighting a war. So for the sake of professionalism - and for what little privacy they could cling to - they kept it between themselves. For the most part.

There were times, usually after one or other had been on a particularly dangerous mission or something unforseen had happened, when they didn’t stop to concern themselves with caution. When they settled for anywhere relatively private - behind the barracks, screened by trees, or, as now, a supply closet.

“You realise,” Steve said, as Peggy leaned back against the door and pulled him towards her by his lapels, “That this is possibly the least private place we could have found?”

The closet was only a few feet across, most of it taken up by shelving, but Steve couldn’t say he minded the lack of space, given who he was sharing it with. He was more concerned about the fact that it was only a short way down the hall from the very busy offices of their fellows officers, and there was more than a small chance one of them might need to fetch something.

Peggy shrugged. There was an amused glint in her eyes that worried Steve just a little bit. “You’ve been gone for weeks. I missed you. Besides, this will just make it more fun.”

She lifted her head up so the tip of her nose just brushed his, and lightly kissed his lips in invitation. Momentarily distracted, Steve brought his hands to her waist and kissed her back more deeply before remembering what had been worrying him.

“But if Phillips sends anyone to get anything -” he started again, but Peggy cut him off with an exasperated sigh.

“Steve.” She arched an eyebrow. “Do you want to be thinking about Colonel Phillips right now, or me?”

That was an easy one. “You.”

“Well, then.”

She slid one hand around his neck and pulled his head back down. She didn’t give him a chance to complain again, pulling on his bottom lip with her teeth until he opened his mouth and sliding her tongue over his. Steve didn’t want to complain, either, not with Peggy’s body pressed firmly against his and her fingers running through his hair. His grip on her waist tightened and he slowly drew his hands down to her hips, guiding them in line with his.

Breaking away from her mouth he moved to kiss the underside of her jaw, just below her ear. Peggy tilted her head to give him better access and he rained a line of kisses down her throat, nipping with his teeth and soothing with his lips. The flowery scent of Peggy’s perfume filled his nostrils, and over his head he could hear her breathing, shallow and panting, mixed with quiet noises of enjoyment.

He had just reached her collarbone, peeking tantalisingly out from underneath her shirt, when he heard another sound over Peggy’s breaths. Footsteps, and voices, getting closer and louder.

“What is it?” Peggy murmured as Steve lifted his head, then she too heard the noises and froze.

“..should just be in here, second shelf,” one of the voices was saying, just before the door handle started turning.

Steve took his hands from Peggy and pressed down on the door with all his considerable strength. Pressed flat beneath him, Peggy clutched at his coat and buried her face in his shoulder. Steve was confused for a moment, until he heard the sound of muffled laughter.

“What’s wrong?” a second voice said.

“Don’t know. Handle’s turning, but the door won’t open. Must be stuck.”

Steve hissed as more pressure was exerted, and a shudder passed through him as whoever was on the other side rammed their shoulder into the door. He knew thanks to the serum he was stronger than most men, but how much force he could hold against he wasn’t entirely sure yet.

“Nothin’. Won’t budge.”

“Ah, just leave it. There’s another one down here somewhere.”

The voices started moving away, grumbling to each other about the sorry state of the offices. Steve relaxed as they faded to silence, and looked down at Peggy who was still trying not to laugh.

“Would this be a bad time to say I told you so?”

Now that the moment had passed his own lips were twitching with the absurdity of it all, and as soon as Peggy looked up and met his gaze they were both laughing, shoulders heaving, grabbing at each other to stop their knees from buckling. He hoped whoever had been outside was long gone, or the noise would surely bring them back to have another look.

When their laughter finally subsided, Peggy slipped her arms back around Steve’s neck and grinned. “Alright. Next time, we’ll find somewhere more private.”

“Next time?”

“Well, we’re here now. We might as well make the most of it.”

That was a point Steve couldn’t argue with.


	17. Namesakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Steve and Peggy on naming their twins James and Sarah.

They were only a few minutes old, newly-washed skin still glowing pink. And they were absolutely perfect.

Peggy stared, transfixed, at her son, cradled in her arms. His face was screwed up and blotchy from his first cries, screaming his arrival, but he was beautiful. His only rival in the world was the sister that Steve, sat on the edge of the bed, held with infinite tenderness. She, too, had cried at first, but both babies had since subsided into a drowsy quiet, as though coming into the world had wearied them as much as birthing them had tired their mother.

She couldn’t remember ever feeling so tired in her life, a bone-deep exhaustion that echoed in every nerve-ending. Sweat had matted her hair and still prickled on her forehead, and she was sure she must look terribly pale and wan. Her body had been pushed past its limits, but even though she knew she needed to rest, the appeal of sleep was minimal next to the draw of her children.

They were so tiny and delicate. The rational part of her brain knew that, of course they were, they were newborns and smaller for having shared a womb. Knowing that couldn’t have prepared her for the feel of her son in her arms, though, the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the butterfly pulse she could feel beating through the blanket he was wrapped in, the minute perfection of his fingers and toes.

The same awe was reflected on Steve’s face as he gazed down at their daughter. The same pride. These pieces of flesh that were her and Steve combined, that had grown inside her, they were real, tiny people. Their children - theirs to raise, to protect, to love with all the fierceness the two of them together were capable of.

“Have you picked names yet?” the nurse by the door asked, smiling.

Peggy met Steve’s gaze, then looked down at the little bundle in his arms. “Sarah, for the girl.”

“Sarah Elizabeth,” Steve nodded, bending down to place a kiss on the baby’s forehead.

That decision had been made while Peggy was still pregnant, and had been easily agreed upon. Steve had known he wanted to name a daughter after the mother that had given him so much, and Peggy, liking both the name and the stories she had heard of the woman who had worn it, was happy with the choice. Elizabeth as a middle name had been her choice, a name she was fond of and that went nicely (in her opinion, anyway).

Finding a name for their son (modern ultrasound technology really was wonderful) had been more difficult. Having picked their daughter’s name Steve had wanted to leave it to Peggy out of fairness, but she couldn’t seem to settle on one name she liked above any others and, much as she loved her male relatives, she wasn’t keen on naming her son after them.

“What about your brother?” Steve had suggested when she was about six months in and sick to death of flipping through baby name books.

“Harrison?” she had laughed, shaking her head. “I love my brother, but I’m not doing that to an innocent child, Steve. And before you suggest it, my father’s name was Eugene so that’s out, too.”

“Harrison’s not so bad … we could call him Harry.”

Peggy considered that. It was true Harry wasn’t a bad name, but something about it didn’t seem right. “Maybe as a middle name.”

“Well, there’s always Howard.”

“Not a chance in hell,” Peggy had grinned.

Nothing had seemed right, so three months and thirty-six hours of labour later and they still hadn’t come up with anything.

Sighing, Peggy looked down at her son as if, now that he was actually born, she might somehow see his name written on his face. He already looked rather like Steve, she thought, in the set of his features and definitely in the shape of his nose. But the wispy thatch of dark hair that just coated his head, that was hers. She stroked it back with two fingers, almost afraid he was too delicate for more than that.

“What about James?” she said, as inspiration suddenly struck.

“James?” Steve looked up, surprised pleasure in his eyes. She wondered why it had never occurred to her before - surely it must have crossed Steve’s mind. Presumably he hadn’t wanted to seem pushy or to influence her, since it was supposed to be her decision.

“I think naming him after his godfather’s as appropriate as anything. And James is a lovely name.” The more Peggy thought about it, the more she liked it. “James Harrison Rogers.”

The baby snuffled, as if he was approving his new name. The sound made Peggy’s heart ache pleasantly.

“James and Sarah,” Steve murmured, shifting Sarah into the crook of one elbow and reaching out to squeeze Peggy’s hand. “Our children.”


	18. Contagious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Caring for each other while ill.

“I don’t know what’s more annoying,” Peggy grumbled from where she was curled up on the couch, “That I can’t shake this cold, or that you’re apparently immune.”

Irritably she picked at the sleeves of her pyjamas, feeling fed up of everything. She was fed up of being unable to breathe through her nose, fed up of feeling like the back of her throat had been scratched raw, fed up of the inside of her apartment which she hadn’t left for nearly a week. She hadn’t been this sick in years, and she had forgotten how exhausting it was.

Steve chuckled as he cleared away piles of tissues and empty throat lozenge packets. “I think it must be the serum. I haven’t been sick since I was given it.”

No doubt that was true. Peggy couldn’t pretend to be an expert in the science of it, but she understood Erskin’s had designed the serum to enhance every part of the body, including the immune system. There were likely very few illness, if any, that Steve couldn’t fight off now. Which was probably only fair, given everything he had suffered before he had been given the serum.

That didn’t stop it from being irritating, though, when Peggy had been laid up for a week and Steve showed no signs of as much of a sniffle, but was as tall and handsome and healthy as ever.

Coming to stand over her, he reached down and gently stroked her hair back from her forehead. His fingers were cool and comforting against her skin, so, closing her eyes, Peggy leaned into his hand.

“At least this way I can take care of you,” he pointed out.

“Mmm, that’s true. This is rather nice.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

When she wasn’t feeling thoroughly grumpy, Steve’s insistence on looking after her was the only good part about being sick. He had spent the week making her soup, running out to the shops for ice cream and chocolate, snuggling with her to watch movies and reading to her until she fell asleep. Not to mention washing up all of her dishes and keeping her apartment respectably neat and tidy when she didn’t have the energy.

Sitting down beside her now, he pulled a blanket from off the arm of the couch and tucked it around her. Smiling, Peggy curled herself against him, draping her legs across his thighs and resting her head against his shoulder. Steve’s arm slid around her back and held her close.

“You know,” he said thoughtfully, his chest vibrating pleasantly beneath her cheek with his deep voice. “I could try and get sick.”

Peggy tilted her head up, frowning. “How would you do that?”

He looked down, and she had a moment to register the teasing glint in his eyes before he tilted her chin up and bent to catch her mouth in a swift kiss. She laughed her surprise between their lips, lifting one hand to neck to both steady herself and pull him closer.

“Well, what do you think?” Steve grinned when they broke apart. “Do you think that’ll do the trick?”

“Mmm, I don’t know …” Peggy pretended to think about it, sliding her fingers up into his hair. “You might have to try a few more times …”


	19. Snowed In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Peggy hanging out with the Howling Commandos.

The snow was coming down now in dense swirls of freezing white. It was already lying thick on the ground, and each flake that looked fluffy and soft from inside would no doubt feel like the kiss of a knife edge if it brushed bare skin. Peggy shivered, and pulled the collar of her fatigues further up around her neck.

“Is that fire going to be ready any time soon?” she asked, turning to see no less than three of the Howling Commandos were huddled around the fireplace of the safe house.

By her calculation, it had been nearly twenty minutes since she first smelled the distinctive fishy tang of herring on the air. The snow had started coming in not long afterwards; at first a few flakes that just settled in her hair, and then the flurries that obscured the view of the landscape. The stone walls of the safe house would protect them from the worst of the snowstorm, but it would be a lot easier to ride out with a fire to provide some warmth; Peggy could still feel the cold creeping down into her fingers and toes.

“Almost got it, Peg,” Dugan grunted over his shoulder.

Dernier, watching them from by the door, heaved a sigh and spread his hands. “If you need assistance …”

“No!” The shout came from Dugan, Jones and Bucky all at once.

“We want to be warm, Dernier,” Falsworth explained, “Not blown to pieces.”

Dernier rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath in French that Peggy didn’t quite catch, but was sure was less than complimentary.

Lifting her eyes, she met Steve’s gaze across the room and found her own amusement mirrored in his face. He was doing an admirable job of keeping his mouth in a straight line, but she knew him well enough by now that she could see the laughter dancing at the back of his eyes.

He was leaning against the wall opposite her, arms folded, but even relaxed as he was she could see he was much more assured and confident than he had been a year ago. He might have been given the title ‘Captain’ as part of his costume but he wore it as if he had born to it. Calm authority was etched into his bearing; he was a man who had found a purpose.

Peggy itched to cross the room and stand close to him, to touch him. It had been weeks since she had last seen him. But they had agreed that in the field, with their colleagues, they had to be professional. So she kept close to the window, and tried to pretend she wasn’t aware of every minute shift in his stance. It helped that she could tell from the glances he sent her way that he was feeling the same frustrated desire.

A whooshing crackle came from the fireplace, drawing their attention, and Dugan gave a triumphant shout and clapped Jones on the shoulder.

“There we go!” He stepped back, revealing a blaze swelling to life in the grate. Golden light spilled out across the floor, and tendrils of warmth started seeping across the room. “Told you we almost had it.”

“Congratulations, Dum Dum,” Morita grinned, “After a year tramping through the wilderness of Europe, you’ve finally learned to light a fire.”

Dugan just grinned. “Never say you can’t teach me anything.”

The others chuckled appreciatively, in much better humour now that hypothermia wasn’t an imminent prospect. Peggy felt herself smiling as well, remembering how much she had missed the easy camaraderie and companionship of the small, tight-knight unit.

Getting up from his seat, Falsworth crossed to where she was standing and peered out the window. By now all that was visible was white; the storm would probably last most of the night, and they would have to dig themselves out come morning.

“You know,” he said conversationally, “I never thought I would miss the British weather until I came here.”

Peggy laughed. “Goodness, yes. What I wouldn’t give for a good London drizzle right about now.”

“I’d settle for a decent cup of tea and a muffin.”

Across the room Bucky gave an amused snort and leaned back in his chair. “Why is it you two suddenly become so much more British when you’re around each other?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Peggy said, arching an eyebrow.

Bucky flashed her his trademark boyish grin. “On you, it’s charming.”

Used to his flirtatious manner by now, Peggy just shook her head. Falsworth looked like he might say something about the implication that, on him, it was not charming, but was cut off by Dugan banging a large bottle of rich brown brandy down on the table.

“I can’t do anything about tea, Monty, but I got the next best thing right here.”

Morita rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Now we’re talking!”

“Should I be concerned about the fact that you always have a bottle of brandy on you, Dugan?” Steve asked, coming forward with Dernier and Jones.

“Gotta be prepared, Cap.”

“What are you, a boy scout?” Jones pulled some mismatched tin cups from out of one of the packs. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Lifting the bottle off the table, Dernier inspected the label carefully then opened it up and took a sniff before declaring it acceptable and pouring for all of them. Dugan handed out the cups and they raised them all together with a little clinking noise.

“Cheers! Now, normally I’d suggest we liven up the evening with a game I used to play with some friends back in the day,” Dugan said after taking a large swallow. “But we do have a lady present tonight.”

Peggy snorted. “Oh, please. I could drink any one of you under the table.”

“Why, Agent Carter, that sounds like a challenge,” Bucky said, pretending to be shocked.

“And what if it is, Sergeant Barnes?”

There was a chorus of chuckles and Bucky slowly rose from his seat and leaned towards her. “Bring. It. On.”

***

She won, prompting cheers and another round of celebratory shots and that really did finish everyone off for the evening. It was a little while later, when the the world was pleasantly fuzzy around the edges and everyone else was asleep that she finally slipped over to Steve’s side and reached up to run her fingertips along his jaw.

“You know,” she whispered, “I’ve heard the best way to keep warm during a snowstorm is to share body heat.”

“Oh really? Well, if that’s what’s best …” Steve whispered back, pulling her into his arms.


	20. Favourite Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Taking a bath together

Peggy sank down into the bath with a grateful groan. Closing her eyes, she let her head drop back to rest on the back of the tub as the hot water lapped gently at her skin, warming her through and soothing away some of the aching tension in her muscles.

“I don’t think I’ve been this stiff since I started training in the forties,” she murmured, shifting a little to a more comfortable position and grimacing as a twinge of pain shot through her back.

She felt rather than heard Steve sitting down on the edge of the tub by her head, chuckling softly. He reached over her, his presence somehow solid and strong even with her eyes closed; he dipped something into the water beside her with a quiet splash, and then she felt the softness of a sponge against her back, rubbing in small circles. His free hand came to rest on her shoulder, large and warm, his fingers running up and down her upper arm in a caress.

“You’ll get there. It was like that for me at first as well,” he said as he washed her, moving the sponge in slow strokes down her back. Opening her eyes again, Peggy leaned forward to give him better access, wincing only a little. “I didn’t know the limits of my new body yet, so I pushed too hard. Who knew super soldiers could still strain their muscles?”

“Terribly unfair,” Peggy agreed.

“I blame Erskine.”

Smiling, she drew her fingers through the bubbles resting on top of the water. They glittered under the lights, tiny prisms filled with dancing rainbows that shifted as her fingers swirled patterns in the foam. Steve had picked the bottle because it was supposed to be good for muscles, and it filled the room with a clean, herbal scent that Peggy rather liked.

“Good call on the bubble bath,” she said, blowing some of the bubble from her fingers like she was child again. “It’s very soothing.”

“Some of the Shield agents, although I’m pretty sure it was mostly Nat and Maria, put together a ‘welcome to the twenty first century’ gift basket for me. The bubble bath was actually one of my favourite things in it.”

She laughed, enjoying the image of Captain America winding down in the evening with a long, hot bubble bath.

“What about you?” Steve continued, bending down to place a kiss on her forehead. “What’s your favourite thing about this century?”

“Hmmm …. I like this,” she patted the sides of the bath.

“What, the tub?”

Peggy nodded. “They’re so big now. Lots more room to stretch out.”

She demonstrated, lying down so the water came up to her neck, completely covering her body. While Steve laughed, she sat back up again and scooted down a bit.

“Or,” she said, smiling at him, “for someone to join me.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “You have someone particular in mind?”

“It would make it a lot easier for you to help wash me.”

He grinned, then stood up and stripped off his shirt and jeans. Even tired and aching as she was, Peggy was happy to let her eyes roam over him. She loved his broad shoulders and muscular chest the most, though the strong arms and thighs were a close second, and the abs with a silky dusting of dark blond hair just below them …

Some of the water splashed over the side on to the tiled floor as he lowered himself into the bath, settling back where Peggy had just been sitting. Once he was comfortable she came to sit back against him, her back resting against his chest and his legs cradling hers. His arms came across her, and she idly started tracing patterns over his skin like she had been doing with the foam.

Turning her head, she looked up into his smiling face. “Do you know what my favourite thing about this century really is?”

“What?”

“That you’re here. And we’re together.”

His eyes softened. “Yeah. Mine too.”


	21. Curls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: One playing with the other's hair.

The evening brought with it a quiet hush. Steve leaned back into the couch, half watching the movie playing on the television and half listening to the sound of the rain as it pattered gently against the windowpanes, a low, steady drumming that echoed through the room. A scented candle stood on the coffee table, its flickering flame setting shadows dancing along the wall and sending the warm, welcoming smell of cinnamon wafting through the air. 

Peggy was stretched out next to him, her head resting on a cushion in his lap, a blanket draped over the rest of her. Her hair was spread out around her, some of it falling over Steve’s hand where it dangled down off the arm of the couch, so he absently started threading his fingers through it as his attention drifted from what was on the screen.

She had washed it earlier in the day, so it was soft and smooth, like silk running over his skin - albeit silk with a few tangles that caught slightly here and there. It was strangely hypnotising to wrap the curls around his hand and then let them pull free, watching them fall away with the fluid movement of water running downhill. He combed them through gently, sometimes holding them tightly before letting them spring free, sometimes just letting them trail away through his fingers.

As he played his hand moved further up, so his fingers stroked Peggy’s scalp as they brushed through her hair. She made a pleased little noise, and murmured, “That feels nice.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve repeated the motion, looking down at her profile. Her eyes had fluttered half-closed as though she might go to sleep any moment, and her lips curved up in a faint smile.

“Yeah. My mother used to play with my hair when I was a child.” Her voice was sleepy, her words laced with contentment. “It always sent me straight to sleep.”

Steve smiled, twirling a strand of her hair round one finger. A lot of the guys he had fought with in the war had had a thing for blonde hair, or the occasional redhead, but Steve loved the rich darkness of Peggy’s curls. If he brought them close to his face he could smell the flowery scent of her shampoo, sweet and sharp all at once.

“It’s gotten longer,” he commented as he stretched one curl out straight before letting it flow back into its natural shape.

“Mm. I’ve been meaning to get it cut.”

“I like it.” Steve bent down to say it into her ear, his nose just brushing her cheek. She laughed and waved him away, so after placing a kiss on the rim of her ear he obediently sat back and started playing again.

“Then maybe I’ll leave it a bit longer.”

The future had always been uncertain for Steve. Growing up, the question of whether he would live to see his next birthday had always hung over him and he had never bothered thinking too far ahead when each day was a struggle to survive.

Then had come Erskine and the serum, but he was still in the middle of the war. Even after meeting Peggy, the future had been vague beyond the hope for a single dance, because who knew which fight could be their last? Waking up in the twenty first century had taken even that and left him with nothing but a question mark over what would happen next. The Avengers gave him immediate purpose but the future was blank. Indefinable.

But now … now Peggy was here as well, and they were no longer at war. And the future didn’t seem quite so unknowable any more.

Because when Steve looked at Peggy, he saw his future. He saw a wedding, and children, and the two of them side by side until a day when they were both old and wrinkled and grey, and she would lie with her head in his lap and he would play with white curls instead of brown.


	22. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Cuddling in a blanket fort.

The living room was unrecognisable. The furniture had all been moved into a rough square and draped with what looked like every sheet and blanket in the house, held up by lengths of string that had been tacked from wall to wall, making a closed off sort of fort or tent that took up most of the room. All the lights had been turned off, but a low yellow glow illuminated the blankets from the inside.

Standing in the doorway, Peggy surveyed the new arrangement with raised eyebrows and an amused smile. Given that she had only been at the office for a few hours this afternoon, it was impressive work.

“Well, this is –” she started, but was cut off by a shushing noise coming from inside the fort. The blanket-walls shook, then an entrance opened nearby and Steve’s head popped out. His hair was mussed like he had just gotten out of bed, and he was holding a finger to his lips.

“Shh. Keep your voice down. Come on.” He waved at her follow and then disappeared back inside.

Peggy shook her head, but kicked off her heels and got down on to her hands and knees to crawl inside after her husband.

The inside of the fort was just as impressive as the outside, if not more so. What looked like every pillow and cushion in the house covered the floor, along with the few blankets that hadn’t been needed for actual construction. The yellow glow, she now saw, came from strings of fairy lights that Steve had somehow managed to pin around the top of the fort so that the lights stretched across the ceiling and draped down the walls.

Curled up on a pile of pillows, blankets tucked in around him, was Peggy and Steve’s two-year-old son, Jamie. He was sleeping soundly, his dark hair falling across her forehead and his long lashes brushing his cheeks. Peggy felt her heart expand the way it always did when she looked at him, and crawled close to place a light kiss on his cheek. Jamie shifted slightly, but didn’t wake.

“He drifted off about half an hour ago,” Steve whispered. He was stretched out on the cushions next to Jamie, a sketchbook and pencil on the floor beside him. “Figured I might as well just leave him.”

Peggy smiled, moving over to him. Steve held out a hand and pulled her close so she was stretched out alongside him, her head resting on his chest and his arms locked around her. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was familiar and comforting and she sighed happily, breathing in the scent of him.

“Long day?” Steve asked, dropping a kiss on her head.

“Very,” she replied, “I could use a nap myself.”

She could hear the smile in Steve’s voice. “We could all learn from the wisdom of two year olds.”

“Do you think if I instituted a mandatory nap time at S.H.I.E.LD., there would be fewer arguments about every decision?”

Steve gave a quiet chuckle that vibrated through his chest. “It’s worth a try.”

Peggy smiled, snuggling closer to him, feeling the stress and fatigue of the day slipping off her shoulders like a heavy coat coming off. With one arm she reached over Steve to Jamie, brushing his hair gently back. The politics of her job would always be tiring; there were too many consequence attached to the decisions they made for it to be otherwise. But as long as she could come home to her family, to quiet moments like this, then she didn’t mind too much.


	23. Poker Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Peggy hanging out with Steve and the Howling Commandos.

The bar was dimly lit as always, the lights hanging from the ceiling casting a low yellow wash over everything and the air carrying the heavy scent of liquor and cigar smoke. Music wafted from a radio, a quiet background underscoring the rumble of voices and the clinking of glasses.

Instead of their usual place at the centre of attention, the Commandos were sprawled around a table in the back corner. Their attention was completely focused on the cards in their hands, so Peggy was able to lean back against the counter and watch them for a few moments, a small smile playing about her lips, without them noticing.

Dernier was sat beneath the window, so the smoke curling up from the cigarette he held loosely between two fingers had somewhere to escape. With his other hand he tapped the cards against the tabletop, quietly sizing up his opponents. Next to him Falsworth had a slight furrow in his brow as he shuffled through his hand, through whether it was a genuine frown or at attempt at bluffing Peggy wasn’t quite sure; he was a bit of a strange contradiction, a master of the stiff upper lip but at the same time very sincere.

Her eyes travelled across to Dum Dum, who, of course, had a drink in one hand and a grin plastered across his face that didn’t seem to have anything to do with the cards in his other hand but with whatever story he was currently telling Morita. For his part, Morita just rolled his eyes good naturedly before examining his cards with a perfectly straight poker face. It was almost as unreadable as Gabe Jones’, who looked the most unruffled of anyone at the table as he leaned back in his chair, arms folded and cards face down on the table in front of him.

Bucky had his back to Peggy, straddling his chair with his arms resting on the back, so she couldn’t see his face, but his posture was so relaxed that she doubted he was giving much away - though he might still have a visual tic that she couldn’t pick up on from this angle. Or maybe he had just won enough off his friends for the night that losing one or two hands didn’t bother him.

Finally she let her gaze drift to Steve. His eyes were on his cards but he was chuckling at something Dugan had just said, his broad shoulders shaking slightly and his lips curved into a smile. Much as she liked him in the red, white and blue of Captain America, looking at him now Peggy had to say she preferred him in the standard, dark green military uniform. The crisp lines showed off his very attractive frame but, far more importantly, when he was dressed as a soldier he was just Steve, the man she had first met, who had won her over with his sharp mind and generous heart, and not the symbol she had to share with so many others.

A smile just curving the corners of her mouth, she picked up her drink and sauntered over to their table. “Would you look what we have here.”

The Commandos’ eyes all turned to her and grins broke out on all their faces. Steve actually got to his feet, and Peggy felt her pulse speed up a little when their eyes locked. His lips curled up into a smile that she knew, with a pleasant tingling, was just for her.

“Well, well. Agent Carter,” Bucky drawled, leaning back in his chair and looking up at her with a cocky grin. “Your mission was successful, then?”

She didn’t bother asking how he knew that she had been on a mission. Even though such things were supposed to be secret - except when it came to the Commandos, whose missions were broadcast on screen to the public - people in the compound always seemed to know when someone was away doing something covert, even if they didn’t know the details.

“Were you worried?” She smiled down at him.

He placed a hand over his heart. “Of course. The world would be a poorer place if anything happened to you.”

Peggy couldn’t stop a laugh. “One of these days, Sergeant Barnes, that silver tongue of yours is going to get you into a lot of trouble.”

“What makes you think it hasn’t already?”

She looked round at the others. “I take it your latest strike went well?”

Dum Dum saluted her with his glass. “Absolutely. You worried about us now, Peg?”

“Not at all.” Peggy met Steve’s gaze and felt the warmth of it through her whole body. “Didn’t doubt you for a second.”

Low, appreciative chuckles sounded round the table, then chairs were being moved and another found for her so she could join them. She was sat between Steve and Dugan, and after setting her drink down she let her hand fall down and find Steve’s by her side. His fingers immediately laced with hers and they both squeezed gently in a private greeting, using the touch of flesh-on-flesh to say what they couldn’t in words.

Above the table, Peggy tilted her head in the direction of the cards. “So, gentlemen, what are we playing?”

“Stud Poker,” Dernier said, gathering up the cards and starting to shuffle them. “Five card.”

Falsworth arched an eyebrow. “Really? I thought we were playing Take All Falsworth’s Money.”

Grinning, Gabe threw an olive at him from across the table. “Not our fault that you don’t know when to quit, Monty. Just give up and we won’t beggar you.”

“No, no, I’m determined to get the hang of the rules.”

“Try watching a few hands.”

“Ah, he’s not gonna give up.” Steve shook his head. “He’s almost as stubborn as I am.”

They all laughed. Describing Steve as stubborn was a generous understatement; the man could have given lessons in obstinacy to a mule. It simultaneously infuriated Peggy and was one of the things she loved best about him. After all, if it wasn’t for his obstinacy he wouldn’t have been sitting beside her now.

Dernier started dealing the cards out and glanced at Peggy. “You playing?”

“I could go a hand or two.”

“Don’t think we’ll go easy on you,” Morita warned with a wink, fishing out some wooden chips from a bag sat on the table and handing them over to her.

Peggy smiled cheerfully. “I’m sure I’ll manage.”

The cards were dealt in pairs, one face down, one face up. Jones had the lowest showing card so he started the betting, then it moved round clockwise through Morita and Buck to Steve, then Peggy. They all threw in their chips easily enough, none willing to bow out in the first round.

When the next cards were dealt was when they had to start paying attention to the hands that were forming and thinking strategically about their plays. Peggy quickly realised the others had been quite right about Falsworth’s playing ability, as no matter how many times Bucky explained the rules and the different hands he seemed to immediately forget them again.

At her turn Peggy had to withdraw her hand from Steve’s, as she was finding it difficult to concentrate when his thumb was gently stroking her palm. Her skin felt cold without him, though, so as soon as she had assessed her hand and placed her bet she returned her fingers to his, flashing him a sideways smile. He grinned back at her.

By the time it came to the showdown Dugan, Morita, Steve and Dernier had all folded, leaving herself, Bucky, Falsworth and Jones. Falsworth had only a single pair, and groaned when he realised he had lost yet more money.

“Three of a kind,” Gabe grinned, laying down his cards and raising a competitive eyebrow at Bucky.

There was a pause, then Bucky flipped over his hand. “Sorry, Jones. Straight.”

Gabe swore, but he was smiling as he shook his head.

“Just you then, Carter.” Bucky looked over at her, mischief in his eyes.

Peggy looked down at her cards contemplatively, then slowly one by one set them on the table.

“God damn.” Bucky stared. “Four aces.”

“I rather think that means I win.”

There was a pause, and then they all started laughing and congratulating Peggy. Morita and Dernier even clapped, causing a few of the other people in the bar to look over and see what was going on with the Commandos. Dugan slapped her on the back, and although Peggy couldn’t help wishing she’d had a moment to brace herself, she was grinning.

“Well, since I’ve been so fortunate in my winnings, I think I’ll be magnanimous and get the next round of drinks.”

“Now that’s my kinda woman!” Dugan crowed.

Peggy ignored him, getting to her feet. “Steve, help me carry them?”

A couple of them wolf-whistled as Steve got up and followed her over to the bar, but he just shushed them with a wave. Peggy wasn’t sure exactly how much he had told the Commandos about their relationship, but given these days they were only making a token effort to hide things it probably wasn’t too difficult to figure out.

Once they were away from the others Steve moved closer to her, one hand resting at the small of her back as she ordered the drinks. It was the lightest of pressures, touching just for the sake of touching, but it still managed to send shivers up her spine. Peggy eyed him as they waited, then reached up to smooth down his already immaculate tie.

“You know,” she said conversationally, “There’s a variant of poker I’ve been wanting to try.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that? I’m the sure the guys’ll be up for it.”

She stifled a laugh. “It’s normal poker, but you don’t play for money.”

“No?”

“No. You play for clothes.”

Steve paused, looking down at her. She could see the wheels turning behind his eyes as he figured out what she was saying.

“Clothes?”

“Yes. As I understand it, if you win a hand you get to demand a piece of clothing from the other person.”

His eyes darkened, a gleam appearing in them that made her skin heat. “And when does the game end?”

Peggy smiled. “When one person’s completely naked, of course.”

She paused, glancing around the bar, and was pleased to Steve’s breathing had quickened.

“I suppose,” she said slowly, “It would probably be better played in private. And with less company.”

Steve just grinned. “Peggy. I don’t think they’re expecting us back.”


	24. More Than This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Peggy is a wartime singer who dreams of signing up, Steve a soldier who loves her songs.

He heard her voice long before he ever saw her.

The first time was huddled around a fire with some of the guys from the 107th, trying desperately to stay warm in a North European winter, static in the background as someone fiddled with the wireless radio in the hope of connecting to home somehow. Then the static gave way to her singing and Steve felt his heart stop. Her voice was rich and smooth, and he would have sworn that he could feel it sliding over his skin like silk, raising goosebumps over his flesh. He wasn’t the only one to stop short at the sound. Heads turned, and before long a whole crowd was gathered around the radio.

They started tuning in every night for the chance to hear her sing. It was noticeable that everyone’s moods were improved, more cheerful, on the nights her song played. Someone must have written home about it, because one night the presenter introduced her as the Sweetheart of the 107th. A cheer went up when their commanding officer announced that she was coming to the front to perform for them.

It wasn’t until he on the edge of the crowd, watching the stage, waiting for her to appear, that Steve realised he had no idea what she looked liked. Nor he did know what to expect. He could hear her voice clear as day in his mind but there was no image to go with it, just a feeling of warmth and comfort,

When she did step up to the microphone, though, to the sound of thunderous applause, all Steve could think was that there was no way she could have looked any different. With her glossy brown curls and dark eyes that even at a distance he was sure were bright and sparkling, she looked like the voice that had filled his mind since he first heard it, that haunted his dreams. She looked like herself.

After the show she was immediately crowded by the other soldiers, eager to try their luck, maybe beg a kiss or an autograph. Steve slipped away to get his sketchbook and pencil, wanting to try and capture on paper what he had felt hearing her sing in person. He ended up sitting on a crate away from the hustle and bustle of the camp, the closest he could get to real quiet out here.

He lost track of time as he drew, aware only of the music repeating in his head and the lines on the paper, and jumped almost out of his skin when a voice spoke somewhere near his ear.

“That’s beautiful. You’re very talented.”

Whirling round, he found himself staring into eyes that were every bit as bright and sparkling as he had thought. “I, um. Th-thank you, Miss Carter.”

“Peggy, please.” Her accent was crisp and clean, every vowel clear cut, but her voice and her smile were warm.

There was a pause as his mind scrambled to keep up with reality. “Steve. Rogers.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Steve. You were at the concert, weren’t you? I’m sure I saw you in the crowd.”

She perched on a crate next to the one he had been sitting on, and the movement caused the skirt of her dark blue dress to shift and fall back, briefly exposing her knee and part of her thigh. Steve swallowed.

“You did? Uh, I mean, yes, you did. I was.” He was fairly certain his grasp of the English language was better than this, and tried again. “It was a wonderful concert. You sing beautifully.”

She gave him an odd smile, her lips twisting slightly at the corners, her head tilting faintly to one side. “Thank you. I think you were the only one who didn’t come to say hello to me afterwards.”

The words weren’t accusatory, just curious.

“You seemed pretty crowded.” He grinned, and felt his breath catch when her smile widened in return.

“Yes, I was a bit. So you came to draw?”

He glanced down at his sketchbook. “I felt inspired.”

Faint spots of colour in her cheeks betrayed her pleasure, but she raised one eyebrow a fraction. “Do you say that to all the singers?”

Any of the other men in his unit would know how to reply, would be able to say something witty and flirtatious. Steve had never been very good at that, though, and he knew if he tried that he would just end up stumbling over his own words. So he smiled and shook his head, and took a moment to think of something as he sat back down.

“How did you become a singer?” he finally blurted out.

Peggy shrugged. “I sang in my school choir as a girl. My teacher thought I was good and encouraged me, she got me some auditions when I was older with people she knew … eventually someone with influence caught a show I did, and it just sort of happened from there.”

Steve eyed her for a moment. “You don’t sound happy about that.”

She was silent, and then slowly her gaze drifted to meet his. “I love music, and singing. But sometimes … when I come here, for example, I feel like I should be doing more. To help, to fight. To do my part.”

“You want to sign up?”

“I’ve thought about it.”

Steve twirled his pencil through his fingers as he replied, sounding each word out carefully, letting it rest in his mind before he let it out. “You do help, you know. Your songs. When you’re out here … it’s easy to forget why you signed up. To see nothing but violence and death and despair. When we hear you sing, it’s like a piece of home. And we remember that we’re not fighting to beat an enemy, we’re fighting to protect our home, the people we love, our freedom and our values, you know? It’s not about what we’re fighting against, it’s what we’re fighting for. You give them, us, courage. Hope. You help more than you probably realise.”

He looked up, and saw she was listening intently. Her hands were gripping the edge of the crate, fingers tensed.

“But I think … I signed up because it felt like the right thing to do. For me. If singing doesn’t feel that way for you any more, if you think signing up would … why not do it?”

“You don’t think it’s a silly idea?”

“I know I only just met you, but you seem like a smart, capable dame. Uh, woman.” Embarrassment knotted his stomach, but amusement shone in her eyes. He cleared his throat and pressed on, “There are plenty of female officers doing as much as anyone else. Don’t see why you shouldn’t be one of them.”

She relaxed more with each word, and when a smile spread slowly over her face it was like the sun was shining out from inside her, making the rest of the world seem dim.

“You never know,” she said, leaning forward, “I might even end up working close to your unit.”

This time he knew exactly what to say.

“If you did, Peggy, it would be a genuine pleasure.”


	25. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Steve/Peggy reacting to the other one crying about something.

He found her on the walkway of Brooklyn Bridge.

At first, facing away from him, staring at the water, she blended with the shadows. She had taken one of his coats and it dwarfed her, the dark material swirling almost around her ankles. The loose curls of her hair fell around her shoulders, the dim evening light turning them from brown to near black. Despite the rush of traffic behind her, she was still, contemplative, and that stillness seemed to seep into the air around her, slowing it, like time was folding around her, acknowledging that she was out of place.

Then she must have heard his footsteps approaching, because she turned towards him and light spilled across her face. Steve paused, heart aching as he noticed the tears clinging to her eyelashes.

He wished he knew how to comfort her, but Peggy had never been one to cry easily. During the war, when a mission went wrong and they lost a soldier she shed a few tears, as they all did, but it was never long before she was pulling herself together again, focusing on what came next. Ever practical, ever level headed - but then, they had to be, given what was at stake. When they had said their goodbyes over the radio the sound of her voice, choked with tears, had been so unfamiliar that it had ripped through Steve. He had wished so badly that he could give her the answer she wanted.

He wished he could find the right words now.

Closing the space between them, he hesitated before bringing a hand up to gently wipe the tears from under her lashes. “I had a feeling I might find you here.”

“I did always like this place,” Peggy said, turning back to look out over the water. The lights on the bridge were reflected in the surface as a thousand shards, a golden mosaic flashing in time with the ebb and flow of the waves.

Steve slid an arm around her and was relieved when she didn’t pull away but leaned in closer.

“I was thinking about one time in particular. I came here with the last vial Howard had of your blood,” she continued quietly. Steve looked down at her, waiting. “Part of me wanted to keep it, but it seemed too dangerous in case anyone else got hold of it. So I poured it into the water. I was trying to say goodbye. To let you go.”

“Trying?”

“I realised when I saw you again that I didn’t. Not completely. I couldn’t.”

He understood. He had never been able to let her go, either, no matter how much he tried. He wasn’t sure why that would make her cry, though, so he stayed silent, waiting for her continue, squeezing her lightly to show his support.

Something between joy and sorrow threaded through her words as she spoke. “Now I have you back. But instead I have to say goodbye to everyone else.”

That grief was something else he understood, and he knew only time would help it ease. When he had first woken to find himself seventy years out of time, almost everyone he had known and cared for gone, it had been a raw, agonising kind of grief, battering him in waves that swept him off his feet every time he thought he had found solid ground. He wouldn’t wish that kind of pain on his worst enemy, and he hated that to have Peggy back in his life meant she had to experience it.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“So am I. And I’m not. That’s the funny thing.” She looked up at him, and a tear rolled down her cheek. “It does hurt. I miss them all terribly. But I wouldn’t give up this chance for us, I wouldn’t give up you, for anything.”

A lump had risen in Steve’s throat and he didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just leaned down to kiss her, putting the words he couldn’t find into the press of his lips against hers. When he pulled back her eyes were bright and his own felt suspiciously scratchy.

“I love you,” he finally managed to say.

“I love you, too.”

A small, sad smile curved her mouth. Knowing there was nothing else to say, Steve just brought his other arm up and pulled her close. He felt her arms slip around his back and she rested her head on his shoulder, and even in the midst of their shared sadness it felt right, so right, to have her there, with him, in his embrace, that the grief didn’t seem quite such a heavy burden.

They stayed like that, holding each other in silent comfort until night proper had fallen across the city, when they walked home hand in hand, a new lightness in both their strides. Whatever they had to get through today, whatever they might have to face tomorrow, they would overcome it. They were together now, and nothing would separate them again.


	26. Good Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Accidentally falling asleep together.

The steady, rhythmic pattering of heavy rain against the window pane drew Peggy from her sleep. Underscoring it was the high-pitched, mournful keening of the wind, and the occasionally rushing sound and squeal of tyres over the wet road as a car passed outside. Together the noise was low but harsh, a discordant orchestra that dragged the mind awake and refused to let it rest.

Still in the space halfway between dreaming and fully waking, she thought vaguely that it sounded cold and unpleasant, somehow, making her want to shiver even though she was warm and comfortable in her room at the Griffith.

Awareness came to her slowly, sleep hanging on with desperate fingers even as the sounds of the day outside pulled her relentlessly back to reality. She felt relaxed, content, and didn’t want to lose that feeling, so she kept her eyes shut and let the rest of her senses catch up with her first.

Feeling came first, the discomfort in shoulder and hip for having been laid on too long. She moved slightly to ease them, and came up instead against another body that she was, she realised, half lying across. It was hard and firm, radiating heat, and even with her eyes closed Peggy could feel the strength and power coiled in it. She breathed in, and the woody, spicy smell of cologne washed over her, mixed with another smell that was familiar, loved; the smell of home now.

For a moment, her mind still gearing up to full speed, she wondered why Steve was in her bed at the Griffith since, after all, men weren’t allowed here. As if in answer, memories from the previous evening started coming back to her - of him sneaking in, intending to get her to sneak out, but instead they had ended up having a drink from the bottle of gin she kept hidden, talking and laughing in hushed voices, Steve pulling her into his lap and kissing her, and then …

… then nothing. They must have fallen asleep, although she had no real recollection of doing so. That was a foolish thing to have done, really. If they were caught not even the fact that Steve was the nation’s favourite hero would stop Mrs Fry from throwing Peggy out of the boarding house. She wouldn’t bend the ‘no males’ rule for the Pope himself.

Right now, Peggy really couldn’t bring herself to care. And she certainly didn’t want to think about Miriam Fry when she had Steve beneath her, in her bed.

Her hand was resting on his moment, and she could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath it. That made her smile; for a time she had thought she would never hear it again. Now she hoped its familiar rhythm would follow her into old age. If she moved her fingers just slightly they curled over the edge of his tshirt to the bare flesh of his collarbone. The feel of his skin against hers, warm and smooth, set her nerves thrumming pleasantly.

Slowly she blinked her eyes open - not fully, but to slits just wide enough to see out of. She pressed herself close against him, and tilted her head back over his arm to look up at him. Expecting him to still be asleep, she was surprised to find herself looking into his blue eyes, still soft with tiredness, as he smiled down at her.

“Good morning.”

“Morning.”

He brought his hand up behind her head and let his fingers trail through her hair. Peggy hummed contentedly in the back of her throat.

“Have you been awake long?” she asked. Her voice was thick with sleep, which helped her keep it low so they wouldn’t be heard.

He shook his head. “Not long. Just enough to watch you wake up.”

“We really shouldn’t have fallen asleep like this, you know.”

“I know.”

“I’ll get into a lot of trouble if anyone finds you here.”

“I know.”

Neither of them moved to get up. Steve kept playing with her hair, and Peggy let her eyes drift shut again, sliding her arm further around her waist to hold him to her.

After several moments she asked, “Are you going to go?”

“In this weather?” Steve sounded amused. “Not a chance.”

“Good.”

As though to hold him to his word she hooked her leg around his, and he turned slightly on to his side so he was curled around her, the feel and smell of him surrounding her. She pressed her face into his shoulder and the sounds of the outside were muted, and there was nothing in the world but her and Steve.

Just before she drifted back to sleep she felt the soft pressure of Steve’s lips against her forehead, and she thought that if she did get thrown of the the Griffith for this, she wouldn’t regret it.


	27. We Did Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Steve and Peggy and their kids.

“No!”

The command was issued in such an imperious tone that Steve’s hand immediately stopped in mid air, ornament still dangling from his fingertips. With one eyebrow raised, he turned and looked over his shoulder.

His daughter was glaring at him, or at least she was trying to; with her still round, red-cheeked face, plump and adorable in the way that well loved three year olds’ faces are, it was more of a pout. There was an echo of her mother’s fierceness in her large brown eyes that in years to come would make her a force to be reckoned with, but for now Steve had to fight to keep a smile from his face.

“No?”

“No,” she said again, emphatically. “Not there.”

Steve turned back to the space on the Christmas tree where he had been about to hang the bauble in his hand, and made a noise in the back of his throat as he privately wondered what was wrong with the branch he had chosen. “Oh. Not there.”

A huff of laughter came from his left, and he shared an amused glance with his son James, who was helping decorate the tree under his little sister’s strict supervision.

“Do as Lizzy says, remember, Dad?” Jamie grinned, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes. “She’s in charge.”

Lizzy nodded solemnly, causing her twin braids to bounce on her shoulders. “Yes. I’m in charge.”

Unable to stop himself smiling now, Steve instinctively looked over at Peggy. She had paused in the middle of hanging lights along the top of the opposite wall and was watching the interaction with a soft smile on her face. When she noticed her husband glancing her way she quirked an eyebrow upwards. “She is her mother’s daughter.”

Her tone dared Steve to take that as anything other than praise.

“No doubt about that,” he laughed. He saw Peggy in both their children every day, and it always made his chest feel like it was about to burst with pride. As far as he was concerned, the more like their mother they were the better. Still smiling, he looked back at Lizzy and held up the ornament he had almost offended her with. “Alright, sweetheart. Where should it go, then?”

There was a pause as Lizzy toddled closer, looking critically at the tree, and then she pointed one chubby finger at a branch a little way above where Steve had been going to place the red glass bauble. “There.”

Obediently Steve reached out and hung it up. “There we go. What do you think?”

“Definitely better.” Peggy wasn’t even looking as she got down from the chair she was standing on.

“Much better. Don’t know what you were thinking before,” Jamie said, shaking his head in disbelief. It was better, Steve decided, to ignore this and look at his daughter. Lizzy just smiled, showing off the dimples in her cheeks, which he took to mean she was happy.

“Just the star left, then.”

He pulled it out of the box sat on the floor next to them. It was a good few years old now, the first Christmas ornament he and Peggy had ever bought together, but was still sturdy. Made of gold plated wire, twisted into spiral designs down the length of each point, and decorated with glitter that glinted brightly where it caught the light, it was Steve’s personal favourite out of all their many decorations.

“You want to put it on?” He held it out to Jamie, who had put the star on the tree every year since he was old enough to hold it himself.

But Jamie surprised him by shaking his head. “Why don’t we let Lizzy do it this year? You want to put the star on the tree, kiddo?”

Eyes wide, Lizzy nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes!”

Jamie squatted down, and helped her clamber on to his shoulders. Steve and Peggy both watched with fond amusement as he straightened back up with no visible strain; just one more thing to make Steve wonder how much of the super serum formula running through his veins had found its way into his children. Still, strong as he might have been, tall he wasn’t, not at eight years old, and Lizzy’s face started to crumple when she realised that even on her brother’s shoulders she couldn’t reach the top of their seven foot tree.

“Not quite there yet, huh?” Jamie gave his dad a rueful smile.

“Give it a few more years. You’re taller than I was at your age.”

“Lizzy’s taller than you were at my age.”

“You have been spending too much time with your Aunt Natasha,” Steve grumbled, as Peggy tried to stifle her laughter.

Stepping up behind his son, he grasped Jamie round the waist and hoisted him up. Lizzy, still perched on his shoulders, let out an excited whoop as she rushed up through the air and came to a halt by the top branch. Peggy handed the star up to her, and she leaned forward to put it place, fumbling a little on her first attempt and almost dropping it before getting it sat right.

“All done!”

Steve lowered Jamie back to the ground, and swung Lizzy up into his arms. She giggled, nestling her head into his chest.

“Time to put the lights on, then?” Peggy ushered them all back a little, then with a flourish bent down and flipped the switch on the socket.

The lights all around the room immediately came on, flickering pulses in a rainbow of colour that seemed to radiate warmth as well as light. With the gentle snowfall outside the windows and the smell of pine coming from the tree, it felt like Christmas was already here.

Peggy stepped back towards them and Steve shifted Lizzy into one arm so he could slip the other around his wife’s waist and pull her close against him. He felt her hand come up to rest on his back, and saw her other reach out to wrap around Jamie. And Steve felt immeasurably grateful, as he did every year, that against all the odds he and Peggy had made it, and could enjoy ordinary, perfect moments with their family like decorating for Christmas.

Looking down, he found her eyes already on him and they shared a slow, tender smile.

“We did good, didn’t we?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Peggy whispered back, “I rather think we did.”


End file.
